The Adventures at Baker Street School- A Study in Bones
by Wiz-Chic
Summary: Wiz-Chic Teen!Lock Series. 14 year old Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are Dormmates. John is popular and on the football team- Sherlock is the opposite. A Sherlock AU in which John and Sherlock find an unlikely friendship in the midst of a mystery and a devastating accident that will pull the two boys closer together- against the wishes of almost everybody at the boarding school.
1. Part 1

**For Oliveswind! This is my first attempt at a Teen!Lock fic. This story will be 2 chapters/parts.**

**I hope you all enjoy! **

**Warning: I don't own BBC Sherlock (alas that is owned by the Lords Moftiss) but I DO OWN my story lines and this story. **

* * *

"Fuck, mate, can't believe you're forced to room with the freak."

"Yeah well," John Watson sighed as he and his teammate and friend Andy walked down the dormitory hall. "Random pairings, you know the bloody boarding school rule- they don't pair us footballers together."

"Well, not anymore."

Andy and John chuckled. Practice had just finished, the girls from the girls school across the street had come by to watch. John Watson was more than a little excited at getting 3 numbers in one go, most particularly a miss Sally Donovan, only the hottest girl at the girls school. … Though it probably helped that he was the team captain and most talented player, but John hoped it had something to do with his personality as well.

"Well then, this is me, mate." John sighed as they stopped by room 221b. "Only the first week of school and it's been the strangest one so far. Do you know he stole _thumbs_ from the science lab?"

"Right well, good luck man." Andy patted him on the back, "And hey, if you decide to pass over Sally- send her over my way?" He laughed and walked away. John had to keep himself from rolling his eyes, Andy had a way of sleeping with every girl like an object, something John was not fond of not did he appreciate.

John waved at his friend watching him disappear up the stairs.

John sighed looking at the door.

Another day with Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

Walking into the room, John was constantly reminded of how unfortunate these room set-ups could be when one's roommate was unsavory. It was just one big room- the only separate doors were the ones they each had for their own loos. On each side of the room were their beds, in the middle a couch and 2 chairs with a small kitchen in the back which was- as usual, where Sherlock Holmes was.

_The freak_- as others called him.

Needless to say the two 14-year-old boys didn't get along.

His violin lay on the couch, forgotten as he found more interest in the thumbs he'd acquired. Sitting at his table with one thumb pinned to the desk and Sherlock Holmes sitting with large glasses dissecting it.

"Good day?" John commented, unable to stand the silences that man brought. Sometimes he didn't talk for days.

"Hmmm." Sherlock grumbled in return. He was tall, thin, with dark hair, sharp features and bright eyes. Most people hated him. In fact- possibly everyone hated him. He was far too smart for others to relate to- and he rarely spoke with anyone as it was.

"Look, are you ever going to actually talk?" John asked impatiently sitting on his bed as he took off his muddy shoes. This caught the attention of Sherlock, who lifted his head from his microscope (also stolen) and looked at John with curious eyes. But he didn't respond. "I mean, why don't you just talk to people? You know? Move away from your gadgets and things and _actually _try to be social?"

Sherlock didn't hesitate as he spoke one of his rare sentences, "In the past speaking hasn't helped me greatly."

"Why's that?"

"…People don't usually like to hear what I have to say."

"And that is?"

Sherlock took a moment before silently returning to look through his microscope. John sighed and rubbed his face- _well at least I tried._

Standing up, John grabbed a towel and headed for his shower, and just as he was going to close the door he paused at Sherlock's sudden casual answer.

"Their truth."

John looked back at his pale dorm-mate who continued to look through the microscope, "what?"

Sherlock looked up after giving an annoyed sigh at having to repeat himself twice, "People don't like hearing their truths, and that's all I know how to say. There's a better word for it- but I can't quite put my finger on it yet."

John's face scrunched as Sherlock went back to his experiment, not having any idea what that meant.

_What does he mean 'their truths'? _John asked silently to himself. But as he closed the door behind him he brushed it off- resolved that he'd never understand the strange man that he was forced to live with.

* * *

Lunch times were a special occasion, not just for the boys boarding school but for the girls boarding school across the way. During clear days such as the one that presented itself that brisk fall day, both schools would have a joint lunch out on the boys yard. Of course the tables were separated by social conformities. The football jocks and the more popular girls all sat together in the same congregation, then there was everyone else in their own little groups and cliques- and then there was Sherlock Holmes. Who, as usual, chose not to eat that day, instead- at being forced to sit outside and '_socially participate'_ during every lunchtime as ordered by the watching professor, lay beneath the tree in the yard. On his back, both hands put together in prayer motion beneath his chin, and eyes shut as he drowned out the '_annoying noises'_ of the '_idiotic_ _conversations_' his "_peers"_ were having.

"Look at him over there…" Andy commented, his eyes falling on Sherlock laying under the tree.

"What a freak." Sally sighed as she sat next to John, her schoolgirls outfit uncomfortably hot against the sun. "How do you even room with him?"

"Yeah, has he stolen any of your organs in your sleep for him to eat, yet?" A player commented, the whole table laughing except for John and the team's captain, Greg.

John, after his little conversation days ago with Sherlock, had found it difficult to be so… _judging_ of him. The rest of the school seemed keen, but John Watson found himself resolved to just leave Sherlock Holmes in his own world and not bother him- _what's the point in that?_ John thought, not seeing a reason for others to poke in his business as they had. This was one of those moments in which John Watson sensed a great deal of difference between himself and the school he went to.

"Come on, you guys." Greg sighed, quieting them all down. Greg was 16 and ready to graduate that year. He was by far the best looking guy on the team, and quite possibly the whole school, but his girlfriend (who he was hopefully devoted to) that went to a state school and was constantly cheating on him behind his back- had kept him from creating many relationships in school. "Just leave him alone, who cares? Anyways, I hear he's good at sciences. I hear he's a genius."

"Pfft!" Andy snorted. "Someone better at sciences? Better than me?"

"He does." John said suddenly, Andy looked at him- as well as everyone else- as if he'd gone mad. "I mean I just saw his scores on his desk in our room… On accident…" Everyone remained silent as they stared at John, "he is a dick but lay off. Like Greg said, who cares?" He added quickly.

John's eyes moved to look at Sherlock who's eyes were now open, his attention focused entirely on John as if he'd heard what he said. John quickly looked away; clearly Sherlock Holmes wasn't used to people sticking up for him as the look in his face was one of astonishment.

"Uhm… e-excuse me?"

A thin shadowy figure blocked the sun above Sherlock, he lifted his head slightly off the ground before dropping it again with a sigh, knowing already who it was. Her hair was long and pulled up into a messy ponytail, her uniform was 3 sizes too big and hung off her body like a lop-sided bag, and her black-rimmed glasses took up far too much of her face making her nose look immensely small and elf-like.

"Yes?"

"I'm M-"

"Molly Hooper. Yes. I hear you're at the top of sciences at the girls school."

She blushed and shifted her weight from one leg to the other, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

"Well, uhm, yes- and I don't want to be you know- a little sudden or soon-" Sherlock sighed, already bored with the conversation. "But there's the end of term joined dance, you know where us girls are supposed to ask you boys to it?" Sherlock's eyes scrunched as they looked up at her, the bridge of his nose wrinkling in the process, "And I know it's only the beginning of the term but- I don't you know want to miss my… my chance, you know?" She giggled- a light snort coming out which she had not intended. Slapping her hand over her mouth her cheeks burned as she said softly, "sorry."

"_You_…" Sherlock drawled, confusion flooding his thin stoic face, "want to go to a _dance_… with _me_?" Molly nodded her head, her ponytail bouncing. "…I don't dance, Miss Hooper."

She'd never heard anyone call her Miss Hooper before, that was usually reserved from professors or for her mother. It was strange for her… especially coming for a fellow 14 year old who apparently spoke like he was a grown up.

"Well… we don't have to dance you know?" She snorted nervously, "We can like, you know- go places? Or something?" Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed, losing interest, "It is a free night you know! So we could go to like, the diner down the block or… the coffee shop… or the park… or the cemetery-"

"Cemetery?" Sherlock repeated interestedly, looking up at Molly Hooper with a change of inspiration. "There's a cemetery near by and no one told me?"

Molly nodded, "yeah, I love it there. It's where I always go to think." She smiled shyly, "I could take you there if you want. Instead of the dance? I'm not a good dancer either so it works out well…."

John and the others watched the exchange with a silent curious fascination. No one had ever been able to have an _actual _conversation with Sherlock Holmes. And there she stood- that mousy weird girl from the girls school, having one. They couldn't hear a thing they'd said. So when the mousy girl nodded excitedly with a little squeal and jump before walking away from Sherlock Holmes, who returned to his previous pensive state- they had to know.

"Oi!" Sally said as Molly walked past them, Molly stopped and looked curiously at the table, "Molly, what was that all about?"

"Oh!" Molly smiled widely, her retainer glistening against the sun. "Nothing, it's just… well, Sherlock and I are going to the dance together. Well- not the dance really. I promised to take him to the cemetery so we could go bone hunting on the uneven graves!- oops." She said softly, placing her fingers atop her lips. "I promised not to say that."

"Well…" Greg said, a closed smile on his face, "That's really sweet Molly."

"Thanks, Greg." She smiled, "So what are your plans for the dance? Is Rebecca coming up?"

John looked astonished between the two of them- since when did _they_ know each other?

"Advanced Sciences club." Sally said quietly to John, noticing his curiosity.

"Ahh, no." Greg cleared his throat. "She is… busy."

"Oh no, it's your last year you should be attending at least-"

"Jesus Christ-" Andy spat standing up, pointing towards Sherlock, "what the bloody hell **are** you looking at!?"

Molly and Greg's conversation stopped as all eyes turned to Sherlock, who was- once more, looking over at them. No intention was on his face- he was merely observing, and only Andy seemed to notice… or bother with it.

Sherlock didn't reply.

Sally got off the bench worriedly as Andy marched towards Sherlock Holmes with fury in his step. No one got up- until Andy suddenly stopped before the young man in all black who looked up at him fearlessly. When Andy reached Sherlock, in one swift _whoosh _he'd lifted his leg and kicked the side of Sherlock Holmes' rib cage, knocking the air out of him as his face contorted in rare pain.

"Oh my God." John mumbled as he, along with Greg, and a few others (Molly included) got up and surrounded the pair, watching as Sherlock clutched his side, rolling onto his stomach from the footballers blow groaning in agony. "Andy, what the _hell _are you doing?!" John shouted, quite certain his teammate had gone mad.

"I'm so sick of this prick!" Andy shouted, "I mean, come on- he's probably not even smart." Everyone- but Molly, John and Greg, began to chuckle; like sheep's in a heard they joined in the disgrace of an easy target. "Look at him!" Andy smiled, enjoying the praise.

"What has he ever done to you!" Molly shouted going towards Sherlock- but she was quickly pulled back by John just in time- as he saw Andy pull out his leg. Before Molly could get hit John shoved pulled her towards his chest as Andy kicked Sherlock again. Many people cheered- rambling on about the jerk, who told them all their rudest things, was finally getting what he deserved.

"Uhgggg…" Sherlock groaned and gasped for air, spitting blood onto the grass. His eyes squinted as he looked up at Andy.

_WHY AREN'T YOU FIGHTING BACK!? _John thought angrily and worriedly as he watched the blood drip down Sherlock's lips.

"It's cause I'm smarter than him." Sherlock breathed, a light smile coming on his face.

"Think your smarter do you?" Andy taunted, "Think you're a _genius_?" He joked, people laughing. "Prove it!"

Sherlock leaned on his forearms, his eyes connecting with John Watson who'd now let go of Molly Hooper. John was watching on with horror, and when the dorm-mates eyes met- John silently telling Sherlock to back down.

But Sherlock didn't. Slowly he stood up, groaning as he straightened his back, wiping his bloodied mouth with the back of his white button up school shirt. Undoing and ripping off his tie he took two steps towards the crowd, moments of silence passed as he eyed almost every one of them, catching his breath.

"Fine…" Sherlock drawled, his voice deeper than any other boy at the school, at only 14 his voice and words were that of a 30 year old. While others boys voices were still in the process of cracking and changing- Sherlock Holmes' deep baritone had fully developed.

_If only the social part of his brain would catch up._ John thought, mentally rolling his eyes, knowing whatever Sherlock was going to do now was not going to help this situation.

"You want me to prove it?"

Andy shrugged, holding out his arms, "It's what I said, isn't it?"

"Fine…" Sherlock smiled lightly, "If that's that you're sure want. Hm, where to begin? Well, I think I'll start with my trusty roommate- hm?" John's eyebrows lifted in surprise as he saw Sherlock's eyes not hesitate as they landed on him, "John Watson, older brother, doesn't get along with him- probably because he's an alcoholic and university dropout telling by his phone. He doesn't quite fit in because contrary to everyone else- John is here on an academic **scholarship** as by telling that he is the only one on the football team that did _not _buy new cleats, amongst his thriftier sweater and shit collection- he does not come from money. Nor does he have any."

John bit his lip as eyes landed on him, no one had known that. And he would have been embarrassed if he were ashamed of his background (which he was not) and also if he had been any more astonished at what Sherlock Holmes could do (which he also could not have been) John Watson was speechless for a reason that was rare when dealing with Sherlock Holmes.

_Fantastic. _

"Next? Why not Greg Lestrade? Hm? Well, what to say about him? Captain of the football team- yes, one of the few of you that is actually on for talent. Has an unfortunate girlfriend who has been cheating on him with boys from her state school for the past 2 years-"

"She _what!?" _Greg exclaimed disbelievingly. But Sherlock simply moved down the line and continued pointing at each person as he spoke.

"got kicked out of your last school for shagging with the counselor-" The boys eyes widened, Sherlock pointed his finger at the next girl, "smokes pot in the girls lavatory on Sunday evenings-; chews your own hair and secretly hates girlfriend- _No, _boyfriend-; kleptomaniac; emotionally unstable due to your odd habits of speaking to house-animals- "

One by one Sherlock went down the line, draining the colour from the face of each person until he left the best for last with a mocking smile, "–Ahh, and finally- Sally Donovan and Andy Anderson. Sally's supposed to be going with my dorm-mate- John Watson, but I can easily tell that by the state of her knees she's been doing a little more than _scrubbing your floors _in the empty cleaners closet during study period when you sneak her in."

Sherlock finished, casually fixing his collar, the blood now dried above his lip. Everyone was silent. All eyes either on Sally, Andy, or John. Sally and John looked at John with worry and shock, but John's eyes were stuck on his pale dorm-mate's face, who looked at Andy with a smug smile on.

"Genius it is, then?" Sherlock broke the silence with a mocking tone. Finally, all eyes went back to him.

In a flash, before anyone even saw how he'd got there- Andy was standing above Sherlock Holmes' body as he was laying on his back, his face contorting into pain as Andy continuously punched and kicked him. Blood poured out of Sherlock's nose and mouth. Almost immediately Greg had his arms wrapped around Andy's chest as he pulled him away.

John and Molly immediately ran to Sherlock who was nearly unconscious on the ground, attempting to stop the bleeding.

"Let go of me!" Andy shouted, releasing himself from Greg's grip. But the older student was not ready to let it go.

"Suspended for the next 2 games Anderson!" Greg shouted pointing a finger, utterly furious, Andy opened his mouth ready to retort, "One more word and you're off the team! Now get out of here!"

After taking a moment to pause and gather himself, Andy walked away followed by other students (Sally included) who found they no longer wanted to be involved as they saw Sherlock was beginning to lose consciousness.

John pressed the napkin against Sherlock's nose tightly, but the bleeding wouldn't stop, his cheek swollen as well.

"Greg!" Molly shouted standing, "we have to get the nurse!"

Without a moment to spare Greg and Molly ran towards the school on a mission, leaving the two boys alone.

"Oh stop being dramati-" Sherlock began, trying to pull off John's hand.

"Look will you stop being such a tit?" John countered, "you're losing a lot of blood. Let me help, you idiot."

Sherlock let his hands dropped as he observed his dorm-mate, speaking with a rare quiet mumble. "I didn't mean to out your social circumstances like that."

John shrugged, "No, it's alright. I actually really don't mind. If they're not going to accept me because of that I don't really give a fuck. And Andy can have Sally, never really liked either of them… you just saved me the trouble of having to tell them myself. Though you were also a total dick for outing everyone else's secrets. Surprised the whole mob wasn't on you."

"Can't help that that's all that I see." Sherlock replied quietly. "I don't fit in. …I don't think I was meant to."

After a moment of silence, John sighed and was lost in his thought as he admitted the one thing that seemed least likely for the boy who was the most popular- yet was perhaps the most miserable student in the entire school.

"Me too." John admitted finally. Sherlock looked up at him, a blunt expression on his face.

"I know."

"How did you manage to figure that out before I even could?"

"Because you're an idiot." Sherlock replied quickly repeating John's sentiments he'd made with a smirk.

John and Sherlock snorted and chuckled. John removed the cloth to see if he'd stopped bleeding, and placed it back when he saw it wasn't. There was no bump on his nose which meant it wasn't broken, but the amount of blood was still worrisome.

"…How did you know?" John asked breaking the silence, "About… Harry?"

"Your phone. Gift from Harry. Falling out was obvious, drunk scratches from the charger were obvious- and you don't drink."

"Not just Harry, by the way- Harriet. My sister."

"Ugh," Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Something it's _always _something."

"That was…" John said shaking his head with a smile, unable to hide how impressed he was. "That was incredible. What you did back there."

Sherlock's eyebrows came together in confusion, his eyelids growing heavy, "sorry?"

"Incredible. Your… _deductions_. I guess. I've never seen anything like that." John smiled amazed at the boy.

From the corner of his eye he could see the nurse, along with Greg and Molly running towards them from across the field, but he didn't focus on them- instead keeping his eyes on the dark haired, pale and thin mate who was slowly falling under a sleep.

"That's not what they usually say…" Sherlock drawled out.

John looked back at him curiously, his eyebrows together. "…What do they usually say?"

A light smirk raised the side of Sherlock's mouth, his eyes bright and electric as they looked up at John.

"_Piss off._"

Immediately after the words left his slightly upturned lips, Sherlock passed out against him, his eyes closing suddenly with his head falling back against John's forearm

John,smiled wider than he'd ever remembered. By the time Greg, Molly, and the nurse- Mrs. Hudson, had reached the two boys; John Watson had found himself, for the first time in a long time- having someone to look forward to.

* * *

**Second and last part coming up soon! **

**Comments are always cherished!**

**Wiz-Chic **


	2. Part 2

**(So I got a question regarding my vernacular so I though I'd address it here too because I don't even notice it: When I was a kid I went to a U.S. based school for a couple of years before moving away again. So you'll be getting an American term or word in there_ very_ rarely every once in a while mixed in, old habits die hard. :/ )**

**Also- I lied. This is going to be three parts. Turned out longer than I thought. **

**Again.**

**Whoops.**

******Thank you to my beta The Wordy Lass!**

* * *

As time went on at Baker Street School, the dynamic of the small, all boys public school drastically changed, mostly due to the merging of one friendship- the one in room 221B. After spending a good two days in the hospital wing of the school with Mrs. Hudson forcing horrid vegetable soup down Sherlock's throat- he finally had permission to go back to his dormitory where John Watson was waiting for him with a newfound interest in his newfound friend.

A month had passed and the two dorm mates had become inseparable; and with Andy having been suspended for the past two games and practices, there hadn't been too much trouble.

Hours in the dorm room were strange. John Watson had never noticed Sherlock's habits so dramatically before, but he supposed that came with the territory. Late night violin playing, strange body parts in the fridge, newspaper clippings of crimes (including many regarding a dead boy in a pool Sherlock had obsessed over for a good week), and on exceptionally dull evenings- Sherlock throwing army knives at the wall shouting '_Bored!_' while John was studying at his desk.

Some days John wanted to walk out- and on a couple of occasions, he did. However, by the time one month had passed, other than Greg Lestrade or Mike Stamford (the Prefect of their dorm), John had only spent his time with Sherlock. Even their lunches were spent separately from the rest of the school, as they took to eating in the room while Sherlock explained different murder cases from the newspaper.

During John's daily soccer practices, Sherlock would occupy himself. Only to later learn that Sherlock had taken to indexing John's socks and throwing out jumpers he didn't like. During John's 2 games that month- where the team won both, Sherlock did not attend- nor did John expect him to. But it was no coincidence that during the games Sherlock would occupy himself in the 3rd floor of the library- which, incidentally, overlooked the football field.

The friends' connection had blossomed in pure silence. Neither having to explain to the other their faults, or issues, or anything- there was only acceptance.

* * *

It was on his way back to his dorm from his last period of the day where John Watson would have to make a choice that would change both of the young men and their friendship, forever.

With a pint of milk in one hand, John attempted to gather the right key in his opposing hand. He couldn't hear anything on the other side of 221B, indicating Sherlock was either deep in his 'mind palace' or dissecting the pancreas he stole from the science wing.

"John?"

Nearly dropping his keys, John looked over to see Andy Anderson approaching him in the hallway wearing his football jersey- finally after a month of suspension.

"Can I help you with something?" John mumbled, tapping his foot. He'd avoided both Andy and Sally at every turn. Sally was simple as she did go to a separate school across the street, but Andy had been a more difficult task and would be even more difficult now- as he was coming back to play.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry." He sighed, "I don't know what came over me. It's just… I really don't like him, you know? And something about him was-"

"You sure it's not just because he nearly skips all of his courses, barely glances at his homework, never studies for tests- and still manages to surpass you and be at the top of our class?" John inquired with a raised eyebrow and plenty of sass.

Not that he was big on playing up Sherlock Holmes- he wasn't. Sherlock had enough ego to fill the entire school and then some. And John knew how difficult and dickish Sherlock could be- but since that day at lunch, John would never ever forget watching Andy beat the living lights out of Sherlock Holmes. And he'd never forgive him.

At John's comment, Andy's face reddened over, "So what?" Andy said slowly, "He's your friend now? The biggest arsehole in the school is your friend now-"

"Dormmate." John corrected, "Listen, I don't need to hear any of this- I don't want to hear it. Want to say it to someone? Say it to Sherlock yourself. He's the one you should be saying it to."

Walking into 221B (meaning 221 room on the second *B floor of the building), John closed the door behind him to find Sherlock sitting in his chair, his legs pulled up to his chest and his hands together beneath his chin as he was lost in thought, a worn copy of Hamlet closed and perched on his lap.

John had at least hoped Sherlock had heard what he and Andy spoke about- it would save John some awkwardness at the practice on Monday in which Andy would be back. At least today is Friday. Gives me time.

"So?" John inquired, throwing himself and his bag on his bed with a relaxed sigh, "How did it go? Did they listen?"

"No." Sherlock mumbled, "Said they don't need the opinion of a 14 year old. Please."

"But you _are_ 14."

"Shut up."

John smirked.

"No…" Sherlock continued. "Curious though, they aren't listening. That boy couldn't have drowned in the pool by nothing-"

"Still on about that?"

"-and the finding of the latest body doesn't make any sense."

"Latest? What, you think they're linked? The two deaths?"

A sinister smile lightly graced Sherlock's porcelain face, his eyes burning with excited anticipation, "Both deaths are clever. Complex. They smell of the same scent." Sherlock's eyes landed on John who was looking over at him curiously, "And they're not deaths- John, they're murders."

* * *

**14:41 am**

"John…"

John Watson turned in his sleep onto his side, a snort coming out of his nose as he shuffled.

"JOHN…"

His eyebrows came together over his closed eyes- this wasn't part of his dream.

"JOHN!"

"Huh!" John flipped on his back in the middle of his sleep as the emergency alarm went off inside him at hearing his name being demanded, his eyes shooting open screaming in shock at the face that was less than 6 inches away from his own- their noses almost touching. "JESUS! SHERLOCK!"

"The Winter Formal, John!" Sherlock exclaimed excitedly.

Lifting his hand, John pushed Sherlock up into a sitting position as John perched himself sitting up as well, turning on his bedside lamp as he rubbed his eyes. "Hope this isn't you asking- I already have my eyes set on asking that girl Sarah-"

"I'm not asking you- I'm going with Molly." Sherlock's face contorted into confusion as he looked at John, straightening out his striped pajamas. John looked back at his flatmate with equal confusion. "You already know that, she told you."

"Wait, so you mean to tell me you're actually going to the dance then? I thought you were just trying to get her out of your hair-"

"I was! Sort of. The cemetery though, John."

"What about it?"

"Molly and I aren't going to the dance, we're going to the cemetery on the night of the dance- do keep up!" He spoke impatiently.

"But you're going to dress up and get the flower for her and everything, right?" John said with an amused smile, Sherlock chose to ignore him with an eyeroll, seeing it all a small price to pay to get the girl, Molly Hooper, to show him every inch of that cemetery which she knew better than anyone.

"There's our school and then the sister school we're across from each other, both east of the cemetery . The cemetery is about 30 minutes away. What's 30 minutes away from the cemetery heading west?"

John paused lost in thought for a moment, "Uhmm-"

"Come along, John!" Sherlock's hands raised as he exclaimed with them, a curl bouncing in front of his face, "Think! The cemetery resides in equal distance between the Baker Street schools and…"

"Alright listen, I don't know these high end areas like you!" John countered, "And I'm certainly not going to take a verbal argument from someone who up until last week didn't know that the earth revolved around the sun."

With a roll of his eyes Sherlock answered the question for John, "The Leeds Schools, John. Public Schools- just as high end as ours. Just as clever as ours. The boy who died in the pool went to Leeds Boys school, the most recent murder of that body found had traces of a specific fiber that is only found in specific soils mainly based in regions like the Cemetery!" Sherlock nearly burst with excitement.

"How did you get the information on the soils?"

"I asked New Scotland Yard to send me the information- they sent me them with a note saying 'Anything to Shut You Up.' "

"Ah, so that's what that note was." John mused, "So what are you saying? You're saying…"

"I'm saying if we find the proper grave in the cemetery- one recently dug up, we can prove that the wrong body is in custody and prove it was murder and that in fact the person that was supposedly "accidentally" killed is laying six feet under in someone else's grave!"

"But wasn't the body- didn't the person accidentally get hacked off a bunch by one of those tree hacker things?"

"Unless it was a different fresh dead body with the same blood type that was recently and unknowingly dug up in the cemetery, only to be placed in the tree-hacker so they would then be unidentifiable, so then the actual body of Lyanna Wagner, the woman who was murdered and just happens to be the horticulturalist at the Leeds School for Girls-"

"Would be buried in the grave that was unknowingly emptied and that already dead body to hide the evidence of how she was killed." John finished for him, astonished at the complex murder- and how well the pieces fit.

"Precisely." Sherlock smiled widely, excitement bursting through his green eyes as he bounced back happily to his bed and tucked himself in. "I've never been so excited for a dance in my life, John."

"Good, maybe you'll give our walls a break." John laid back down and turned off his lamp.

"John?" Sherlock asked in the dark.

"Yes?"

"You still bringing Sarah along?"

"I think so. I don't think she'll mind the cemetery."

"Right." Sherlock paused and smacked his lips trying to find how to word his next comment best. "Probably best to inform her first."

"…She's not going to say yes, is she?"

"The chances of her agreeing to spend Winter Formal with you, me, and Molly in the cemetery is less than one in a hundred."

"Goodnight, Sherlock."

"Goodnight, John."

* * *

John took his time as he walked to the field- officially not looking forward to attending practice that day, especially because Andy was back and after John had thrown his apology back in his face- it was going to be a difficult rest of the season.

"John," Greg addressed him pulling the shorter boy off to the side, "I know things are strained with you and Andy but you are my assistant captain, we can't function as a team if either one of us is bias against the other teammate, you understand?" John nodded. "And Andy's not a bad sort, really. He's just young and has a bad temperament is all. He's just going through a power phase- he'll grow out of it."

"Within the next five minutes?" John inquired as they watched Andy approached the field.

"Gosh, I hope so." Greg mumbled before turning back to John, "So… Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper then?" He asked casually yet suddenly.

"What?" John's face scrunched in confusion as he looked back at the tall 18 year old.

"Are they um…" Greg swallowed trying to find the words as nonchalantly as possible, "Dating, then? Since they're going to the dance and all."

"Well, I'm tagging along and we're not actually going to stay at the dance- we're going to the cemetery. So, not really a date if you ask me. Although for Sherlock, given the location, I'm beginning to think it could be- if he were actually interested in Molly Hooper- which he's not, by the way." John watched curiously as Greg exhaled, "Alright, listen, you can't tell anyone but Sherlock and I are going to be looking for something…"

Greg's eyes widened in excitement and curiosity, "In a cemetery? What is it?"

"We think a murder victim was buried in someone else's grave-"

"Well that's exciting!" Greg exclaimed, receiving another curious look from John, "Well, I mean- it's sad of course, tragic- but the woman is already dead and that sounds way more fun than staying up in my room and watching Miss Marple on the tele! Can I… come along? Maybe? I may not be a science wiz like Molly or Sherlock, but I'm pretty good with putting pieces together. Organizing things, keeping order- you know."

"Right well, I hate to admit it but we're probably going to need it. Alright, you can come- but let's not tell Sherlock, we'll just spring it up on him on the night of-"

"Spring up what on me?"

John and Lestrade turned to find Sherlock standing looking at them both with a quizzical brow.

"Uhm, what are you doing here, Sherlock?" John asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Here. You forgot these." Sherlock handed John his shin-guards… which the plastic had been burnt off of. "Nothing wrong with helping a friend."

"Dorm-mate." He corrected without thinking, "Are you kidding me, Sherlock? These are the only pair I have" John rambled impatiently as he looked over his ruined guards.

"Just an experiment." Sherlock mumbled looking away.

"Don't worry, John, I've got a spare pair." Greg tacked on quickly with a smile. "Where you headed off to now, Sherlock?"

Sherlock looked back at Greg Lestrade hesitantly at this man's strange interest in Sherlock's doings. He almost seemed excited at knowing what crazy thing Sherlock was up to next.

"Reading." Sherlock said distastefully, lifting his book of Hamlet, unaccustomed to someone being positively interested in his doings.

"Alright, Captain- ready to-" Andy began as he jogged towards Greg and John but stopped speaking once he caught sight of Sherlock between the two boys, his optimism dropping to disdain, "What the bloody hell is he doing here?"

"Don't worry, he's not playing." Greg snorted.

"What, no Sally Donovan around for you to try and impress?" Sherlock quirked an eyebrow tauntingly.

"As I recall last time I saw you, you were at the end of my shoe bleeding, weren't you?" Andy gritted between his teeth taking a step towards him.

John held out his hand pushing it against Andy's chest, keeping him at bay, "Whoa, whoa, alright no fighting."

"Are you kidding me, Watson?" Andy exclaimed, gathering the attention of the rest of the team and the several onlookers "We've been friends for years and just because you got a new dorm mate all of a sudden he's worth giving up your whole reputation for?"

"Hey!" John shouted as Andy tried to approach Sherlock, coming between them both shoving Andy away, "You pick a fight with him- you pick a fight with me."

The entire field was watching in silence, waiting for the ex-best friends to take a whack at each other. The friendship had ended so abruptly and in that moment there on the field in which John chose to stick up for his 'dorm-mate' (possibly the most hated student at the school) against his ex-best friend and present teammate- perhaps no one was more shocked than Sherlock Holmes himself who stared at John Watson with wide eyes and furrowed brows.

Even John seemed a little taken aback by his own actions- it seemed even he hadn't realized how far in he was.

"I'm done with your bullying." John breathed sternly.

Finally, the calm voice of reason and captain of their team, Greg, spoke up, "Alright you two… take it easy. We're on the same team."

"Are we?" Andy spat with irony, "If the freak isn't on the team like you said he was Greg, then why is my assistant captain choosing him over this team?"

"Let's just play." Greg insisted, "Alright?" He shouted regarding the rest of the team, "Alright everyone! Sprints, then passing then scrimmage! Let's go!"

Much to everyone's surprise, the practice went rather well. This probably had a lot to do with the fact that Sherlock had taken to not stay to watch the foolish sport and took to going to the third floor of the library to read…mostly. By the end of the practice they were on to scrimmage, Greg leading one side of the team and John leading the other. And with a leap of faith- Greg placed Andy on John's team with the hopes that the two might find common ground through the game again.

"Alright," John breathed, sweat coming down his forehead in their huddle, "We make this goal- we win… Andy, you block their defensive- mid so I can cut around and pass to Smith for the goal, alright?" All of them nodded and put their hands in before walking away onto the field.

Andy shook his hair out of his eyes. He watched John take his position in front of the ball, waiting for the ref to blow his whistle. Little did any of them know Sally had decided that she and Andy remain 'friends' for the time being as she 'wanted to focus' on her school work. This, of course, was true- Sally even with her judgmental personality was quite on top of her work.

But this meant Andy had no one left. From a home where he was an only child and both his parents ignored him. To being single. To losing his old friend. To having most of the school only see him as 'the guy who beat up freak'. And the fame of said incident only lasted a week or two before it was entirely forgotten- making him anonymous once more behind John Watson and Sherlock Holmes' shadow and their new friendship that had the whole of Baker Street School talking.

The whistle blew. John quickly began running with the ball towards Smith and the goal. Andy, following orders, without a thought ran behind John to be his blocker. Seeing the large defenseman approach John, Andy found himself slowing down- terrible thoughts and desires filling his mind.

By the time John Watson had passed the ball to Smith and the goal made allowing their half of the team to win the scrimmage- John's fellow defenseman was over his assistant Captain's body as he wailed in pain grabbing onto his leg which was twisted beneath him.

"My leg!" John shouted, feeling his bones crush beneath him.

The game abruptly stopped as Greg and the rest of the team scrambled to John while others ran to get Mrs. Hudson, the school's nurse.

"It's alright- it was an accident-" John breathed out of breath as Andy apologized profusely over his broken limb.

But up from the perfect view in the third level of the library- Sherlock Holmes saw it was no accident.


	3. Part 3

**Last piece. Thanks again to my beta The Wordy Lass! **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Maybe this isn't such a bad thing…" John mused in his dorm room as he laid on his bed, his plastered leg laying atop pillows, "Maybe now I can focus on what I really want to do."

"And what's that?"

"Well, always wanted to be a doctor. So I could focus on those studies more." He smiled lightly, "But… it's a bit boring for me. You know, sitting in a room all day. I like the chase, I like to run and be on my guard- I suppose that's why football was a good fit when I got here. And I never really could afford medical schooling with all the new tuition laws, but I read if you join the army they pay for your schooling anyways. And my dad used to take me out to the shooting ranges so I'm actually really good with a gun- and that'll help. So… that might just help both unless I can find something else that'll pay and give me the same thrill."

"…I suppose the first is an option." Sherlock commented sitting in his chair with his fingers steepled beneath his chin. "The latter a possibility."

He'd watched it all happen. He saw Andy purposely slow down so John would get pummeled by the boy on their team that was 3 times John Watson's size. The question was- would Sherlock tell John?

"What do you want to be Sherlock?" John asked, bringing a look of sudden surprise on Sherlock's face. He'd never been asked that question before. "You know, when we grow up."

"…I don't know." Sherlock replied with a light shrug. "I'm not the kind that works well under just anyone's authority. I have a particular set of skills that only belong in a field in which I'd be forced to work with people who have inferior minds as well as being a subordinate of someone else as well. …short of creating my own line of work, my own job description… I'm afraid I don't have a place in society."

John took a moment and fluffed his pillow behind his head, speaking casually before closing his eyes tiredly, "Well, you're clever Sherlock. You'll figure out something."

Little did the injured footballer know his casual words were the first time Sherlock Holmes had been called clever by anyone other than his mother. It was in that moment Sherlock knew what he was going to do.

He wasn't going to tell John about Andy Anderson- no, he was going to take matters into his own hands and get even.

A week later- Andy Anderson had an incident in the science lab. He had blown up nearly half the studio but he insisted he mixed the right products- not knowing that moments before he'd arrived drops of another substance were dripped into Andy's vile that caused the embarrassing catastrophe.

Andy Anderson had rose to fame again at the Baker Street Schools, but this time- for being the class dunce.

* * *

The night of the Winter Formal.

One month later.

"Wonder if Andy's going to go…" John said with a light smirk, fixing his navy-blue suit jacket in the mirror looking at Sherlock in the reflection who stood behind him fixing his own black cuffs. "I heard his skin is all red from the fumes. Well- that's karma for you! Guess he's not as good as science as we all thought then, eh?"

Sherlock hid his own smug smirk well. Not letting John know and leaving him to think it was divine intervention suited them both best. John's leg had almost fully healed- leaving him with a slight limp everywhere he walked and refused to run. John insisted it was pain- but Sherlock, silently knew better.

"Shall we?"

"You know." John turned to look at Sherlock, walking towards their door to open it as there was a knocking. "Never thought you'd be the one with the date and I'd be the single one."

"We're only headed through the dance- don't forget our plan to sneak out. We make an appearance to show people we were there, then we head out the bac- Christ, what are you doing here?" Sherlock exclaimed with a roll of his eyes at Greg.

"John invited me." Greg shrugged in his grey suit walking past Sherlock with a smile and meeting John near the couch as they discussed the plans. This left a nervous Molly standing alone with Sherlock standing before her. Closing the door behind her she walked in and eyed Sherlock from beneath her lashes. Her dress long and lavender with simple straps and a shawl over her arms; she'd opted out of glasses for the occasion, wearing her contacts.

"Molly." Sherlock addressed, clearing his throat. He may not have understood emotions, or the need for companionship- but Sherlock Holmes was raised a gentleman. Picking up a very small rose bud and a pin he'd gotten earlier, Sherlock attempted to pin it against the chest of Molly's dress-

"Ouch!" She squealed lightly. -Only to have him accidentally poke her with the pin and himself in the process.

Sherlock sighed with annoyance, "Stupid worthless sentimental traditions!" He grumbled impatiently.

"Don't worry," Molly giggled lightly. She pinned the rose on herself. And in Sherlock's surprise she pulled her own corsage out of her purse that had a lavender rose that matched her dress- and pinned it on the breast of Sherlock's black suit jacket. "You look nice!" She exclaimed.

Sherlock looked away and cleared his throat, "You look adequate."

"Is that all?"

"You parted your hair differently. Off to the side."

"Uhm… well, yes I thought something new migh-"

"You look different." Sherlock's eyes observed her, the makeup on her face, the way her hair was brushed for perhaps the first time in a year.

"Yes, well," Molly blushed under his gaze, "It's a dance, isn't it?"

"We're going to the cemetery to dig up graves." Sherlock replied bluntly.

"I know." Molly smiled. Reaching down she lifted her dress, showing Sherlock that beneath the full length skirt she wore muddy combat boots. Sherlock's eyebrows raised impressed. "I was hoping to wear the heels I got to match this dress but- you know, don't want to get stuck in a grave!" She badly joked with a snort. "Sorry…" She blushed covering her nose after the strange sound came out of her.

"Hey, you know," Greg said catching the attention of Sherlock and Molly as well, "I watched the news last night and the victims family- that professor at the Leeds girls school, the one we're looking for? Still insistent she wouldn't be so foolish with a tree hacker. Maybe if we figure this all out tonight then we'll have helped her family out a bit, you know? Given them some peace of mind?"

As John and Molly smiled at Greg's sincere sentiment, Sherlock made due to roll his eyes quickly- helping the family the last thing on his young mind.

"Shall we?" He repeated impatiently.

* * *

"Don't worry," John said quietly to Greg as Molly and Sherlock walked ahead of them into the dance hall. "He's secretly glad you're here.

"Is he? He doesn't seem to be."

"Nah," John shook his head confidently, "Sherlock hates people but this is more friends than he's ever had I think. He's just adjusting to the sentiment."

"Alright everyone," Sherlock grumbled, "We spend 5 minutes here, make sure you're seen by as many people as possible, then we meet out back and head over to the cemetery."

Everyone nodded. Sherlock made his way down the steps into the main floor where are the tables were, and was shocked to still smell that overly-sweet perfume next to him.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asked astonished looking over at Molly.

"…I'm your date?" She tacked on worriedly at the end, as if at any moment he was going to change his mind.

"Oh. Right." Sherlock remembered quickly. "I'm out… at a dance… on a date…" He told himself with awkward horror. "I think I'll have a drink right about now."

* * *

The Cemetery

1 hour and 20 minutes later.

"Are you sure you've covered all the new areas you've noticed in these past three months Molly?" Sherlock repeated impatiently, "These are all the new graves?"

"I told you, yes!" Molly sighed. She sat between Greg and John on the bench. After going grave by grave to see if there was any fresh soil- John needed to take a break for his leg and seeing as they were getting nowhere- it was all good timing.

Sherlock paced madly in front of them, rambling on with animated motions in his hands, "But that can't be right! The body has to be here! It has to be here!"

"Yes, but where? Sherlock? Which grave could it possibly be in?" John said impatiently. "Seriously- what is wrong with you?" He inquired, his eyebrows coming together as he began to notice more and more Sherlock's nervous animated habits that were so unlike him. "You're a little on edge right now."

"I'm fine," Sherlock mumbled, attempting to hide his hands that were shaking.

"We've been through every one and none of them have fresh soil." Greg added.

"Yeah," Molly continued casually, "And the ones that do already have grass fully grown on them."

Suddenly, as if he'd been shot- Sherlock stopped pacing. His eyes wide and his mouth in an 'O' shape, he turned towards the three that were sitting on the wooden bench, his pale face accentuated by the moonlight, "OH!" He breathed in delightful exclamation. "Ugh! It's SO SIMPLE!" He shouted to the night sky with pleasant satisfaction.

"What is it?" John inquired. "Want to share with the rest of the class?"

"John when the football field was re-soiled and the grass replanted- how long did it take for the grass to grow in?"

John shrugged, "I don't know, a month or two."

"And how long ago was the murder?" Sherlock led on excitedly.

"4 months ago." Molly answered for him, "Right before first term started."

"Exactly- and the body HAS to be here! So when you dig a grave and replace the bodies- someone is going to notice that its been dug up not because of fresh soil- but because the grass is missing! But do you see?" Sherlock motioned towards the perfect green grass that rolled across the entire small cemetery, "Not a bit is out of place. And if there was one large square of no grass above an old grave- you would never be able to get away with it. Come on!" Sherlock exclaimed impatiently, "This is simple! Even your average idiotic minds can figure it out!"

"So what do we do, then?" Greg inquired as politely as he could to Sherlock's blatant insults which had been piling on as the night had continued.

"We search all the female graves-" John finished for Sherlock, seeing where he was headed. "Fake grass. Check for fake grass."

"That's it?" Molly asked incredulously.

"It's simple…" Sherlock mused, his tone implying he was perhaps being impressed by the murderer. "…and clever."

A smile came over Sherlock's face that John did not enjoy seeing- because it was a smile that confirmed Sherlock appreciated a murderer. But his smile was short lived because within seconds the group was up touching the grass of every female's grave, attempting to see if it was, in fact, real.

"Are you alright?" John asked, 20 minutes into their search. He and Sherlock had taken the north end of the cemetery; they all had instructions to blink their torches twice if they found the grave rather than shouting over the hill.

Curfew was in less than an hour so they had to be quick with their search and couldn't waste any time. However, John noticed Sherlock's hands shaking even more violently than before. His pale face growing even paler as he reached down to yet another female's grave and felt the grass, his arm going limp against the ground.

"Jesus, Sherlock!" John gasped as his friend fell to the ground with a grunt face-first. Immediately he went to him, kneeling next to him putting his torch on the ground.

"John." Sherlock's voice was thick and slurred. Turning him on his back, Sherlock looked up at John, his eyes growing heavy, "John I'm… I'm allergic…"

"Allergic to what?" John asked impatiently, "The grass?"

Sherlock shook his head, his hand reaching up to grab his throat as he began to gasp for air.

"What? Oh shit- Jesus!" John's own hands began shaking as he began to click the torch- but found, in the most unfortunate moment- that it had ran out of energy. "SHIT!" He exclaimed throwing it back on the ground. Greg and Molly were too far away to hear him by this point- their owns lights barely visible to his eyes.

"John-" Sherlock gasped. His eyes were wide and watery- and for the first time ever- John saw fear in them. He saw fear in the face of Sherlock Holmes. "The grass!" He slapped his hand against the ground beneath him. "The gra- huuuuhhh!" Sherlock gasped deeply for air.

"Forget about the grass- you're allergic, allergic to what?!" John exclaimed, "don't you know to carry around an epi pen you mor-"

It was then John realized- of course he did. He was Sherlock, wasn't he?

Rifling through his pockets as his dorm-mate strained for breath beneath him- John felt the clock ticking. Quicker and quicker. Sherlock clearly had no idea what was happening to him until he felt the full effects only seconds ago.

"Aha!" John exclaimed finding the pen. Without a moment to spare- he stabbed it in Sherlock's thigh, injecting the liquid into his stream. Almost instantly- a sigh left Sherlock's throat. At almost the exact same second- the flashing of a light caught John's eye. "They found the grave…" He said disbelieving, "Sherlock they found the gra-"

But John's declaration was lost as when he looked back down- expecting to see a smug smile on Sherlock's face- instead was met with his unconscious body; which, thankfully, was at least breathing properly.

* * *

Sherlock Holmes didn't need to open his eyes to know where he was- or who was sitting next to him.

"How's the diet?" Sherlock opened his eyes in time to see his older brother, Mycroft, roll his eyes. "I see university's given you some free time as you've put on a couple of pounds, haven't you?"

"Hush up now, it's not my diet that's anyone's concern." Mycroft looked around the medical hall distastefully, "That Mrs. Hudson has been fretting over you. …Almost as much as you have mummy all worried about you now."

"Is that so." Sherlock casually leaned his head back on his pillow, a sigh escaping non-chalantly from his chest.

"Upsetting people, Sherlock? Nutmeg is not an ingredient usually found in fruit punch."

"Upsetting enough people." Sherlock mumbled, "Someone I haven't even met yet." His eyes rolled back around to look at his brother who sat in his university suit sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair looking back at him expectantly. "They wanted to send a message… I know who did it. It was the killer."

"And do you know who the killer is?" Mycroft lifted an eyebrow, giving the impression of feigning interest. "Of course this Andy Anderson character- quite the unfortunate name, was the first on their list of possibilities of who could have slipped the nutmeg in- not the murdering bit- that's still up in the air it seems. It took one look and less than two deductions for me to know that he was not even partially clever or harsh enough for such a come back. …Especially regarding the fact that he- as well as the rest of the student body, are still entirely under no suspicion that it was actually you who had slipped the ingredient into his vial- what's cause the need for the current construction of the science wing…"

Sherlock breathed a short laugh, a proud smile on his face.

"All for that- Watson fellow, is it?" Mycroft caught Sherlock's full attention then. "So tell me, are you and him supposed to be? Dorm-mates? Friends? …more than friends? Or just partners in solving crimes? Surely not a friend- you have no friends." Sherlock looked at his older brother with ice-cold eyes and a stoic face, his jaw clenched and his lips firm as his brother taunted, "…Now I forget, are you supposed to be a student now or a detective?"

"While this visit has been making me wish John had never found my epi pen as it would save me from your company-" Sherlock's voice said with blunt coldness, his face in equal conveyance. "I'm sure you'll do better to head back to university-"

"Have you seen this?" Mycroft threw the newspaper on Sherlock's lap; Sherlock picked it up reluctantly, his eyes blinking many times to make sure he saw what he read. "Your- acquaintance, John Watson wrote all about your little adventure here. Sent it in to the London Times and shockingly- it was posted. Not just there- oh no. Started his own blog as well. Now you're both somewhat famous for finding the actual body of the murdered professor from the Leeds school. Well- now they know that she's been murdered- it's not as if her body brought any more clues as to who did it. Whomever the killer was, was very thorough."

"The point is is that there's a killer." Sherlock said finishing the article John had written. "And he knows I'm the one who exposed him. …and he's already begun his game with me."

"And what do we know? Only that he's a student from the Boy's Leeds school. They all have clean records there. One out of their 2,000 students is this killer. He even almost managed to kill you."

"Almost."

Sherlock and Mycroft turned both their heads to find none other than John Watson standing by the bed having just arrived with a light smirk on his face.

"Quite." Sherlock quirked the side of his lips, looking back at Mycroft. "I had something he wasn't anticipating."

John limped towards Mycroft with a knowing look, "You must be the infamous brother Sherlock's never mentioned or spoken about."

"Hm." Mycroft cleared his throat and rose from his chair, his eyebrows coming together. Great, now there's two of them. "John Watson, I leave my brother in your hands. …Good luck."

Sherlock and John watched as Mycroft twirled around his umbrella as he walked out of the hall, his shoes clicking until the door closed behind him.

"He has a flare for drama, doesn't he?" John mumbled taking the now unoccupied seat as his own. "So, how are we feeling? I see you saw the bit I wrote- we have a blog now you know! What did you think of the article?"

Sherlock looked at John's excited expression with little interest, "I detested it. You didn't have to mention me not knowing that the earth revolved around the sun."

"Wha-" John stuttered disbelieving, "Are you kidding me, Sherlock? You're the hero of this piece! That's how I wrote you in- you can't expect me to not show your more human qualities- no matter how few and far between they are. I mean- you're the one who found the grave!"

"Yes, what were Molly and Greg doing flashing that torch?" Sherlock inquired.

"Something about a snake? I don't know I stopped listening once I realized they hadn't actually found it." John sighed.

"But you figured out that I had."

"Of course I did, you were banging on the ground like a maniac. …You were dying you know." John's voice turned serious, he and Sherlock's attention not wavering from each other. "You should have shown me that you kept an epi-pen and where it was, rather than showing me the grave in what could have been your last moments."

"And why would I do that?" Sherlock's eyebrows quirked, his eyes looking intently at John, "I knew you'd find the pen."

"No you didn't." John answered quickly with the shake of the head.

"Alright. I didn't. But I knew helping out the victims family to find their daughters true body was more-"

"Don't even try pulling that one out- we both know it was the game that pulled you in." John answered for them both. Sherlock's mouth quirked when he saw John wasn't running away or scoffing in disgust- that he wasn't judging Sherlock's greatest strength for mystery- which also managed to be his weakness. "…so is this what we do now? Solve things together? I mean, Baker Street is just this school, there's only so much that can happen-"

"Ohh there's a battle field out there John," Sherlock purred excitedly, "I wouldn't worry about that. We've made a new acquaintance…"

"Should we tell the police about him? I mean- they questioned everyone from both schools so- they still think you're wrong about it being a student from there who murdered the professor. Even though they give us credit for finding her they said-"

"We're still 14 year old?" Sherlock rolled his eyes, "One day they'll have no choice but to take us seriously, John."

"Is that so?" John shook his head, "I don't know, Sherlock. We could be completely out of our depth here."

"It's possible…" Sherlock turned to look at John, "But it sure beats gym class, doesn't it?"

Both boy's laughter echoed through the empty hall, only to be cut short by familiar heels clicking.

"What are you two laughing about?" Mrs. Hudson scolded lightly with a smile, "This is a serious business here."

"Is it?" John inquired still laughing, "Perhaps you should quit your day job and have more fun like we do."

"If that's you two thinking about leaving school- don't even think about it." Mrs. Hudson said, rearranging Sherlock's pillows for him, "I'm your nurse, not your mother but I'll be the first to scold you both." She paused and looked between both boys who had rare smiles on their faces, "Ohh my Baker Street boys!" She cooed grabbing them both and kissing them on the cheek.

Much to John's surprise- Sherlock had let her and for a moment had even hugged the older woman in return.

"Why it was just not too long ago Sherlock had been beaten to a pulp then you, John, were in here with that leg issue. Got to know you both and see all your bits-"

"That's quite enough, Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock said quickly.

"Oh, hush now-" She giggled at their expressions, swatting at Sherlock's shoulder. "Now, you boys behave yourselves, I've got to arrange my things." Her face slowly into a strange sort of morose sadness that John didn't think was inside the woman who seemed to constantly exude happiness. "Break's almost here, we know what that means- time to head home soon. Hope you both have loved ones. …I'll be off then."

And with that Mrs. Hudson's heels clicked away as she walked down and out of the hall leaving both Sherlock and John in silence.

"Well, that ending was strange." John said.

"As always John," Sherlock commented casually, "You see but do not observe."

"No, pretty sure I observed- you're nice to Mrs. Hudson. And I observed that she's one out of maybe 4 people you've met and haven't made cry."

"Yes, well…" Sherlock changed the subject quickly, "How did you get me back to school grounds exactly?"

John looked away with a roll of his eyes, "You know bloody well how I did it- or do you want a picture of your unconscious body riding over my shoulder for 5 miles? Now…" John was glad for a change of subject, "What is it about Mrs. Hudson, exactly that's got you so… kind?"

"Did you notice…" Sherlock began studiously, "Her long sleeved dresses? Her nude coloured leggings beneath her dress? High collar? Almost afraid to expose any bit of flesh? The many times healed over scar on her cheek? The way her hands shake whenever a male professor is near? …or even the most obvious sign- her undeniable fear and despair at even the thought of having to go home."

John's eyebrows came together softly, "So… you're saying…"

"Classic signs of an abusive husband." Sherlock looked at John's wide eyes with hard ones of his own, "Not as if she is there by choice. As most women in such situations- she's trying to find a way to leave but as he takes her income from her and she fears for her life with him still around- matched with the basic fact that she cannot afford a barrister nor could one gather enough information to put away… Mrs. Hudson is stuck in her living hell during Winter break, spring break, and summer break."

"Well then." John said softly clearing his throat. "…Mrs. Hudson really is the nice sort.

"Hm." Mused Sherlock, "Her soup tastes like death. …Scones aren't so bad, though."

"…We could help her."

"It's possible." Sherlock shrugged nonchalantly. "…investigate… A bit."

"That might require us breaking a couple of rules along the way." John warned to them both.

"Haven't you broken enough rules as it is?" Sherlock inquired curiously to John, "You're the one who took all the heat for us sneaking to the cemetery. And I saw your transcript from your last school… seems you broke many more rules than I had pegged you for-"

"Ohh yes," John agreed. "Enough for a lifetime."

The intensity of Sherlock's eyes grew as he perked up the corners of his lips at John, as an offer too good to be refused came out of his mouth.

"Ready to break some more?

Young John Watson smiled wider than he'd ever remembered smiling, "Oh god, yes."

* * *

**Fin.**

**?**

* * *

**Yay! I hope you all enjoyed this. It was definitely a new writing experience for me. **

**I _do _have a continuation planned and in making this a short series- but that's only if I suppose enough people want it to be. **

**Please comment if you can :D **


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